Beyond The Frights

The Pretty Girl

They ran, sprinted. They continued to run until the security guard could find a place he could unlock. He stumbled with the key, trying to keep his baton in his hand, ready. The kids huddled closely, being unable to focus on anything besides the things running after them, getting closer with no sign of desire to stop. Tap. Tap. Tap. Somehow the noise kept being made. Tap. Tap. They wanted to keep running, the longer they stopped, the closer they would march to them, but they struggled to figure out where to go. Tap. Tap. The figures came into their view again; they looked taller. Tap. Tap. They could partially see where the noise was coming from, only being emitted by the foot of one of the helpers' legs. Part of it reflected off of one peak of sunlight from above, looking metallic. Tap. Tap. They kept making the noise as they walked, or ran. It was hard to tell from how weirdly their legs moved, but either one still felt dreadful to see. Tap. Tap. Tap- The guard got the door open.

"Quickly-" He whispered, and none of them took a second more to run inside. Their footsteps were louder than they expected, and the things caught on to the sound fast, with their heads perking up like dogs. He shut the door inside, tossing the baton on the floor to not waste time locking it back up. Once the key turned, he stepped back as the people on the chase rushed by, trying not to be seen, trying to not get noticed through the glass.

They... were wrong. Some legs were too long. Some moved as if they had two knees instead of one on each side. They contorted inhumanly, too inhumanly, as their bones were about to push through their skin, stumbling to control their movement. Their smiles looked wide, stretched, like an attempt to mimic a friendly face. They could see a closer look of the tapping one's shoe. Its toes were merged and replaced with shards of metal and rust, not showing any trace of blood while it looked to dig deeper into its foot.

Then the one that made the first move rushed along. Their arm was completely cut off, gushing blood as they continued the same as the others. Their wonky movement made their face and chopped limb smush into the glass of the doors, miraculously getting no blood on its clear screen. The door cracked, not enough to break, and everyone who kept a distance from the glass was able to see its eyeball sporadically moved everywhere without reason and as if it was about to pop out... They weren't human, they couldn't be, that was what everyone thought yet kept quiet from letting out a scream, even Dwight... Then it pushed itself away, passing along with the others. The guard sighed briefly, then the others began to react.

"What the FUCK is going ON?!" Dwight screamed, wrapping his arms around himself like a cocooned shield, rocking slightly forward, then back.

"Calm down-"

"My arm! It tried to grab me!" Eric interrupted, holding the panic stuffed within the atmosphere with the reminder everyone knew. They all stuck to the floor, huddling close to each other, too terrified to stand up with the creatures a distance away from the glass; the guard tried to stay calm with his stance... trying to keep all of them calm.

"We-"

"There's scratch marks on it!" His voice rose, along with the tension as everyone looked down at his arm with the obvious torn sleeve. The scratching on his skin looked slim, not even drawing a hint of blood, but the clothes appeared to be clawed, nothing a human could've ever been able to accomplish with a set of nails or skinned fingertips.

"And I think its blood hit my face-" His hands moved away from his arm, right to his pale cheeks and head, contrasting perfectly with hypothetical drops of dark blood. He vigorously grabbed and wiped at it, trying to rip it off of his face like a mask, but nothing came off. The rest of them looked at each other constantly, switching from one pair of eyes to the other, their own faces draining over the blood they saw and how close they were also to it... Dwight rapidly brushed his hair with his fingers in an attempt to squeeze out any blood off it, while Becka particularly picked at her sweater and shirt, trying to see if anything spilt on it. The rest looked horrified.